


The Ghosts of the Crowd ((Rewrite?))

by immadeofmath



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, M/M, Multi, Newsies - Freeform, Okay I know it says major character death but its rlly not, Other, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, also, im gonna be changing this completely, so big updates guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immadeofmath/pseuds/immadeofmath
Summary: Jack was tired, and the life he used to live up in the penthouse- the life he had been known for, the leader of the Manhattan newsies and the Newsboy Strike of 1899- was forgotten and replaced with a worn artist that made a living by working for the paper and theatre backdrops.But now, he has a chance to fix his mistakes. He has a second chance. He just needs to find them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> after screaming about it on discord 
> 
> im gonna challenge myself and try to make this work
> 
> tr y

Jack was _usually_ more sensible. Actually, scratch that, _he was never sensible_. Jack slowly laid down on his duvet, his breathing was labored and his eyelids felt heavy. Maybe at his age, he shouldn’t go picking fights with others in the middle of the night.

He was tired, and the life he used to live up in the penthouse- the life he had been _known_ for, the leader of the Manhattan newsies and the Newsboy Strike of 1899- was forgotten and replaced with a worn artist that made a living by working for the paper and theater backdrops.

Jack let himself relax, letting out a sigh. He remembers the other newsies. Albert rushing past him, with a cigar that was undoubtedly Race’s, tucked between his pointer and middle finger, still lit and leaving a trail of smoke behind him; although it quickly dissipated. His lips were upturned in a shit-eating grin as he bolted out the door with the thundering of Race's footsteeps coming down the lounge, close on his heels. He missed Alberts snide remarks. He remembers Race’s voice, and how although he kept his head high, he was there to comfort those who needed it, although he might’ve not been the best at it. Jack actually missed Race’s bullshit and his dumb poker games.

Jack longs to see Katherine again as well. The fierce girl went to pursue her career elsewhere, and although they tried to stay in touch with each other, it just didn’t work out for the two. Soon, they cut it off, and the letters began to dwindle, the effort put into the writing slowly disappearing; until neither decided to pick up a pen or a dull pencil to write back.

He missed the Newises as well. Little Les, the twins Mike and Ike, Specs and Romeo, Finch, Henry, Smalls, Blink and Mush, Elmer- his heart began to ache.

  But _god_ , Crutchie stayed by his side along with Davey. Even when Jack left the lounge and abandoned the penthouse. They still visited. He missed Crutchie’s excitement, and his patience with Jack’s daydreaming about Santa Fe. He missed Crutchie’s loyalty and his unbreakable spirit. Even when Crutchie was taken to the refuge, he didn’t sit there crying, he made sure the Newsies efforts were known through the godforsaken place. He remembers how Crutchie would stay up with him on the roof of the penthouse, the two bundled under the covers with a old hay mattress keeping their feet off the ground, talking about their plans for a future that would never come to be.

Jack tried to sit up, or at least get into a more comfortable position, but his body felt like it was filled with lead and cement .

 He remembers Davey, and a pang of longing was sent through his chest. How he’d fiddle with the straps of his bag, or continue to keep the fire that kept the strike going lit, even when it was ready to die out. He remembers the nights when Davey would stay in the lounge, teaching the Newsies basic maths and writing even if it would kill him later for staying up so late. Jack wishes Davey was here, maybe tell him off for his messy apartment.

Speaking of which...He look one last look around his apartment as his eyes began to close. The walls were covered in paint splatters and a easel was in one corner, with the unfinished sketch placed on a nearby desk. Two windows were on the other side, showing Manhattan’s skyline. Where _would-_ no _are_ the other Newsies now?

Jack never thought he’d be dying alone, but there he was.

 

He let out a breathy sigh, as he finally gave up the effort of staying awake.

 

**=**

Jack was never one for swimming. Not that the pools and rivers that weren’t worth more than the lodge were something you’d want to take a swim in anyway.

But the only way to describe the feeling was like diving into a frigid pond. His fingertips slowly lost their feeling, and he could see nothing but the darkness that kept him from looking at his own body. He tried to lift his head or scan his surroundings, but winced when he felt a shock go through his spine.

_Is this really how you spend the rest of eternity? Just staying in a dark space?_

 

It was certainly less entertaining then going down to the pits of hell.

Then, he heard a distant noise, a slight buzz.

Slowly, the buzz grew louder, like a swarm of angry, pissed bees. Jack only had the buzzing to keep him rooted to this dumb place. Until- a light turned on from behind him, when Jack turned around. He saw himself, but he looked fake, like one of his poor attempts at a sculpture. There was no mischievous shine in his eyes, and Jack remembered Davey muttering how he looked better with a smile. Jack now sees what he was talking about, maybe he should’ve smiled more.

Jack tried to reach out, although he doubted he could with the weight on his shoulders. He’s barely able to tolerate the cold, and when- much to his surprise- arm reached out, it stung like needles were prodding into his skin. When he grabbed- his clone? His reflection? Some weird duplicates- shoulder, almost as if stuffed with cotton, a dull ache and a ringing filled his head and ears, accompanying the buzz. Suddenly he saw himself change, his features began to soften, his clothes began to change. He felt _himself_ changing.

He opened his mouth, only for the void to suddenly turn white, like someone flicked on the light switch that had been just out of reach.

 

And then he was gone.


	2. II

Jack combed out his hair, staring at his reflection. “I am Jack Barrett.” He muttered, facing the mirror. “I was born in New Mexico, and my-”

“Jack!” A voice screeched, “WE GOT TA’ GO!” They yelled, raising their voice higher then it was before. “Jesus Christ! Coming, goddamn!” Jack whirled around, before letting go of the sink he was using to support himself, and cast one last glance at the mirror, before dashing out of the bathroom, letting the door slam shut behind him.

He reached the stairway, looking down and meeting the eyes of the intruder. Jack slowly raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping on his face. “Hey Jojo.”

“Well don’t you look simply _dashing_.” Jojo grinned, leaning on the railing. Jack dusted himself off as he descended with small steps. “God I hope so.”

When Jack was reborn, he looked different- and felt different too. He had tan skin with a birthmark on his neck, and a softer jawline, his hair had went from easy to manage to a jungle, and being the lazy ass he is, Jack just stuck it under a beanie or a cap. His eyes turned into a muddy brown and he had a mole under his left eye. He didn't feel unstoppable anymore, and he had no one to really count on besides Jojo now.

Jojo had changed too, he had traded out his brown curls for straight hair the color of old rust, with bright hazel green eyes. He was constantly moving, tapping his foot, swinging his arms, or bouncing his leg. Jojo had his hair tied in a low bun, and he had a generous amount of freckles on his face. He had gotten rid of the newsboy hat and instead had a hoodie covering his hair.

Jojo and Jack weren’t strangers in their first life, but weren’t the closest either. When Jack realized his odd dreams were _memories_ , he freaked out. This was the shit that was meant to be on Tv or those cheesy teen movies. He went online to do some research-

Online as in the school library, where Jack had accidently left the computer on sleep instead of shutting it off, leading to Jojo finding his search history.

When they finally met, the two were relieved they had someone to connect these weird memories with.

 

_“You were born in Santa Fe?” Jojo asked as they walked through the busy halls. “Yeah, what's so wrong about that?” Jojo just snorted, before shooting a glare at some guy who shoved him in a hurry to get to class._

_“You used to be a fanatic about the place.” Jojo took a deep breath before deepening his voice to a borderline stupid degree. “Although I’ve nevah’ been dere’,  oi can see it- Clear as day.” Jack nudged him in the rib; shaking his head while smiling fondly, as if recalling the memory. “I don’t blame him, the place is pretty nice honestly.”_

_“Were you able to ride the palominos you and Crutchie used to joke about?”_

_Jack stopped in his tracks. His throat suddenly felt like rough sandpaper and his tongue seemed to be weighed down by lead. “W-who?” Jojo’s smile fell, “we have a lot to discuss, Jackie.”_

 

Jojo clapped him on the back when he got down to the bottom of the stairs. “Ready?” “Exuse you? I’m never ready.” Jack supplied, grabbing his Dad’s keys from the kitchen table. Yeah, he had a Dad, surprise, surprise.

The two had packed their bags and put them in the back of his dads SUV, which Jack might’ve dented the minute he drove it alone. Jojo made himself at home in the passenger seat, kicking up his legs and cranking the air conditioner up, to which Jack turned it down right after Jojos fingers left the knob. The two fought over the radio for a minute, before settling on a calm silence.

“I wonder if the others are here.”

“I don’t know Jojo, even if they are, ya think they’d remember?”

Silence hung in the air after Jack said that.

The two approached their apartment they’d be sharing. “Who knew we’d be going to college.” Jojo mumbled, swinging a bag over his shoulder and letting another drag on the ground beneath his converse. “We’re in the twenty-first century, we’ll be alright this time.” Jack caught on, looking behind his shoulder as he locked the car doors. “This time.” The two hastily climbed up the stairs, refusing to say anything else. Jack took them two at a time, carrying the bags with no problem and not even breaking a sweat. Jojo shot him looks of slight envy as he had to haul his own baggage with difficulty.

When they reached the top, they ran into two other people who were just leaving. Jack collided with the boy with a hard knock to the head.

Jack stumbled back, rubbing his forehead. He then opened  his mouth, ready to start a fight, eyes narrowed. Before Jojo pulled him back, staring at the second person with wide eyes. Jack jerked his arm free of Jojo’s grip with little effort, before lifting his head, his hands curling into tight fists.

But the pent up anger quickly diminished when he saw who was standing next to the other boy.

They had a bag at their side, with a small notebook in the hand with a pen tucked in the metal spiral. Their hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and they had skin like caramel with brown curls. A pair of shades rested on the mass of them. They had graceful features, but they weren’t exactly built like a model. Their head was held high and they were sending a glare that told Jack- if he took one more step, he’d be toast. They had their hand resting on the shoulder of their friend, who was dusting themselves off.

 

Although she looked different, she radiated the same unwavering confidence. It had to be her.

 

“Katherine?”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV changes? ALREADY?? 
> 
> n o w a y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bryan is in the Newsies Movie!! He was the replacement of Katherine ((which I was a little sad about.)) but he'll be appearing in the fic a few times as Katherine's wingman!

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jack who blurted it out, Jojo’s mouth was parted slightly, and his grip on his bag was so tight his knuckles looked like freshly printed paper- stark white.

The girls breath hitched, she slowly let her had slip from her friend’s shoulder, and letting it hang and fall limply at her side. She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?”

Jack slowly tore away his gaze, looking down at Jojo. He was glancing at Jack then at Katherine, almost as if expecting something. _If he’s expecting for me and Ace to have a heartfelt reunion-_

 

“We thought..you seemed familiar. You work for some kind of journal or newspaper company, yeah?” Jojo tried to change the subject.

 

“Look, we got places to go, articles to write. If you can just move, that’ll be nice.” Katherine’s friend said. “Bryan, be nice.”

Katherine locked eyes with Jack again, as if he would just tell her she used to be his lover in his past life. Hell, he didn’t even know if it actually _was_ Katherine, or if some god needed a good laugh and decided to fuck him around a little bit and make him miss her a hell of a lot more.

The girl sucked in a breath, “Yeah, me and my friend Bryan work for the local paper.” Jack whistled, adjusting his bag, before speaking. “What stuff do you write?”

“Anything that makes a good headline.” Jack remembered something, it was a small moment that he never thought about, but was always in the back of his memory- it belonged to his old life. He remembers being shoved around, each nudge was a shuffle to try and get closer to a large blackboard. Jack was looking up at the board with his friends, waiting for...something.

 

_“I hope it’s real bloody with a nice clear picture!”_

 

Jake shook his head, “That’s..interesting.” Jojo was drumming his fingers against his thigh, looking at Jack, naturally expecting him to take charge. “Jack? Want to leave them to it?”

“Not like we have a choice.” Jack muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, he looked down at his fidgeting fingers - which still had a few drops of dry paint on them from his last try at repainting one of his old drawings- then back at Katherine and Bryan.

“Hopefully I’ll..see you around?” Jack slowly asked, biting his bottom lip. He tilted his head slightly.

“Yeah, yeah. I live on this floor anyway, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

Katherine and Bryan then shoved past them without another word.

“Playing hard to get like last time?”

“I guess things haven’t changed very much, have they?”

**=**

Race was sure things had changed by a landslide.

Not only did he have a actual house, but he was going to _college_. Race smiled at himself, a little burst of pride ran through his veins. He looked at the back seat, where his other friends were sleeping.

Crutchie was sprawled out in the back seat, his sprained ankle tossed over the other seat. His head was resting against the window, and for once he didn’t have his nose in a book. He looked peaceful, which brought a little bit of stress off of Race.

Crutchie never lasted long outside after he grew too old to sell papers, he hit rough times and no one wanted a boy with a crushed leg working in their establishment either.

Race never felt more guilty.

 

_“That thing’s pitiful.” Race muttered, slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders, before he ran off._

 

When Crutchie was reborn, he still kept his spunk and unwavering spirit. But he was more cautious, and spent more time focusing on his grades and solidifying a future and a college education; than going outside and partying. (Unlike a certain Racetrack.) When Crutchie _did_ hang out with Race and went out to eat, he was careful, as if this might be the last time he saw Race again.

They met way back in kindergarten. Crutchie was sitting on the monkey bars, reading to himself. It was a paperback book, incredibly thin and Crutchie’s small fingers could barely hold it in place and keep it from tumbling down and out of reach.

Race was playing four square, (yes, ew, sports, outside, interaction. Gross.)  when he noticed the boy out of the corner of his eye. He was that transfer student, right? He tossed the ball to a girl in his class, “YEAH GO AND BECOME THE DEMON QUEEN HEATHER!” He yelled behind his back, and dashed over to the jungle gym where the boy was perched with his legs dangling over the edge.

 

_“Hey you!” The transfers head sharply looked up, and Race kind of hoped he didn’t get whiplash. He thought that was what it meant away. Crutchie looked around, before Race knelt down; and then leaped up, and swatted the loose laces of Crutchie’s shoes. The boy nearly fell off the monkey bars, quickly snatching hold of them before he fell off completely. His book toppled to the ground. “Sorry!” Race yelled. Crutchies mouth was downturned in a scowl. “Why aren’t you playing with the others?!” Race yelled again, cupping his hands around his mouth._

_“BECAUSE I WANT A HEAD-START IN MY ED..ED-U-CAT-ION. AND SOMETHING TO BRAG ABOUT LATER ON IN LIFE?!” The boy yelled back._

_“WHAT DOES A EDDY-CATION MEAN?”_

_“Come up here and I’ll teach you!” The boy’s demeanor changed, and he gestured with his hands for Race to come up and join him in the monkey bars. “Get the book while you’re at it too!”_

 

Race had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting another car at the stoplight. The two lurched forward.

 

There was another person in the passenger, trying to drink coffee. Albert shot Race a frustrated look when his _‘lifeline’_ spilled all over his jeans. “Eh, we can clean em later.” Race shrugged.

Albert slowly raised the finger at him, glaring daggers at Race.

“Love you too~”

Albert was taking a sip of what little coffee remained from Race’s reckless driving, when he doubled over choking. His eyes were a little wide, “Race what the _honest fuck_?!” Albert screeched. “Damn, chill it drama queen.”

“Can...can y’all both...be quiet...please?? Or do you..want me to..like…” A tired and agitated voice drifted from the back seats. “Climb...up there personally...and whack you both..upside the head?”

It was silent after that, but Albert began rapidly signing in ASL, which Race obviously couldn’t reply too unless he wanted to drive them off of the freeway.

 _‘What the fuck_ ’ was pretty frequent.

 

Race stifled a giggle, before Albert finished his rant and went back to chugging the rest of the cup. Race knew he was done when the plastic cup was chucked at his head.

When Race glanced at the mirror above him- which had those annoying air fresheners Crutchie were addicted too- he saw the boy tiredly staring outside the window, but he seemed to be going back to sleep again. Crutchie’s grey eyes scanned the cars that passed by, barely able to focus on one before it went out of sight. He had light brown hair and was pretty simple. He had a few holes in his ear from trying on earrings, but it didn’t seem to work out, seeing as Crutchie got rid of them soon after.

Crutchie’s eyes suddenly closed shut, and he was back to sleep.

 

Race shook his head and continued driving.

 

Early in the summer, before they met Albert, Race had finally convinced Crutchie to come with him to the elementary playground for, ‘ _nostalgic memories.’_

They two easily climbed up the monkey bars, and Race got so cocky to the point where he tried walking on the monkey bars like a tightrope walker, even when Crutchie, the lovely mom friend, warned him not too.

When Race had made it to the other side, he coaxed Crutchie into trying it out. Until Crutchie misplaced his foot, and he went tumbling down.

Crutchie had only sprained his ankle, but he seemed a little wistful, his eyes glazed over and unfocused as he stared at his ankle which was now in a brace.

 

_“I shouldn’t really be complaining, should I?” Crutchie whispered, “It’s not permanent, but I keep thinking back on the coach accident.”_

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Newsboy’s to get their legs crushed while selling papers. Of course, Race remembered when Crutchie first joined them, he was fine at first, maybe a little bit cautious, who wouldn’t be? But Jack had convinced him to get onto the top of a coach, something Newsies did to get attention at the time, it was a pretty effective way of handing out the papers, wave them in the air, shout a headline (that was likely fake) and then hand it out while the coach was moving. Unless, you hit a bump in the road. Which sent you flying.

 

Race huffed, before pulling up towards the apartment he and Crutchie would be staying at. Albert had his own apartment nearby, he was just there to help unload apparently.

 

“Alright fellas! Ready to move in?!”

Crutchie just groaned and threw a crumpled coke can that was on the floor at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coach things are true sadly, having a ruined leg was very common at the time.
> 
> Thank you for reading the fic! I apologize if it was shorter than desired, but the shorter it is, the quicker I can post a new chapter!
> 
> Kudos are appreciated!


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “WHERE ARE YOU? ME AND ALBERT HAVE BEEN TEXTING YOU FOR 14 MINUTES!” Race yelled into the phone. Crutchie slowly inched his phone away from his ear, little by little. 
> 
> He scoffed, muttering, "It's Albert and I." Before unlocking his phone and checking his messages, raising his eyebrows when in fact, the two had mercilessly spammed him with an overwhelming amount of messages.
> 
> “You’ve been counting?” He quickly replied.
> 
> “THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU HAVE OUR DINNER!” 
> 
> Race paused, composing himself. Crutchie could hear him take a deep breath. “What happened to keep you distracted anyway? You usually get the job done asap.”
> 
> Crutchie looked down at the paper bag, the food was cold. Shit. He let out a uneasy chuckle.
> 
> “I just ran into a old friend.”

Race struggled with the keys to their apartment, continuously jamming one in, giving it a futile shake, before taking it back out and trying another . “There’s only two goddamn keys Racetrack! Just get a fucking key, stick it in the lock, and turn! My arm’s are getting numb!” Albert complained, his arms were sagging with the weight of the boxes in his hands and his eyes looked _murderous_ . “I didn’t come here to get my arms immobilized! If I needed _that_ I would’ve walked out onto the road, laid down, and make Crutchie hold up a sign saying: _90% Deal! Run over my arms, no warrant or contracts_! Or I’d just go to the Delancey brothers!”

“But they’re not even around anymore.” Race argued ignoring the first comment, continuing to wriggle the cursed key into the keyhole.

Crutchie had gone to use the bathroom and had used the elevator instead of the stairs, ‘ _Maybe to buy time, or he got stuck.’_ Race snorted, a smile creeping onto his face. _‘He’d never hear the end of it if that was the case.’_

“What’re you smiling about?!” Albert snapped. “Crutchie’s been gone for 5 minutes. I think he got stuck in the elevator.” “Let a guy take a piss Race, let a guy take a piss. Goddamn.” Albert finally set down the boxes, and not seconds after, Race finally realized he didn’t have the metal key in completely, and with a small nudge and a twist of his wrist, the door opened with a tiny click.

“Are you fucking seriou-”

“Alright! I’m not a total failure!” Race cheered, reaching over his shoulder and patting himself on the back.

The two briskly walked inside, but not until Albert whacked Race on the back of his head, muttering: “Slowpoke.” Race scowled, rubbing the back of his head, and then slammed the door shut. Little did they know, Jack and Jojo were rounding the corner to their hallway, talking in hushed voices.

 

Race scanned the apartment, before walking into the closest room, which happened to be the kitchen. He glanced at the somewhat polished counters, which were clean- but it would likely not remain that way for much longer. Then at the wooden cupboards.

He smiled to himself. This was his place he’d be sharing with one of his best friends. He turned around, pressing his heel into the ground before facing Albert, who was rolling his arms, trying to loosen them up again. “Thanks for the help Albert.” Albert froze in his spot, as if not expecting the compliment. He just shook his head, coming back to his senses before muttering, “anytime I guess. Not like you can carry those with your noodle arms anyway.”

“Hey..” Race’s eyebrows narrowed, he pressed a hand to his chest, close to his heart. “I’m offended. I have the most amazing arms you will ever see.”

 

“Am I interrupting a moment here?” Crutchie yelled, his voice obscured by the wooden door. “Because it’s sounding _hella gay!_ ”

Albert’s face became flushed, and he hid it in his hands. “Race go open the door. Please.” He groaned.

Race chuckled, and let out a quick whistle; before hurrying over to the door and opening it, thankfully no keys were needed this time. Crutchie was leaning onto the doorframe, his crutches held in his right hand.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love some good old gay muscle arm talk, but settling into my apartment seems much more appealing.” Race just snorted, before stepping to the side and letting Crutchie slip past him. Race quickly shut the door when he heard another open nearby.

 

The three explored the apartment, (and of course, chaos followed in their wake.) Race and Crutchie’s new little apartment had a compact kitchen, but chances are they’d just grab food and go sit on the couch. They had one bedroom they’d share with a bunk-bed and two desks on the other side of the room, which Race quickly dumped his shit onto when he realized it was his, pencils and pens rolling off seconds after they hit the wooden desk and falling onto the carpeted floor.

 

Crutchie- the mom friend- tried to organize it much to Race’s protests.

 

The largest room would have to be the ‘living room.’ with a couch large enough to fit three people, a low coffee table and a tv on the wall. Race had left to start furnishing the apartment, with Crutchie in the bedroom organizing his own desk and claiming his part of the bunk bed.

 

Race was busy placing some vintage pillows he grabbed from the furniture store when they went shopping for decorations. They had newspaper patterns on them, which caught the attention of the three. Race stopped short when he saw Albert uncap a pen and start drawing on their walls. “The fuck are you doing?” Race asked. “Not making your walls look bare?” “By drawing on them?”

“Better than buying wall stickers. These,” Albert gestured to his ‘art’. “will last.”

Race shook his head, “I swear, draw a _single_ dick on the wall and I’m telling Crutchie.” Albert snorted, rolling his eyes. “Got it; Mr. Paranoid.”

 

“Hey Race?”

 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Albert whispered mostly to himself as he continued sketching out some type of building. Race snickered, before answering with a quick, “Yeah?”

“I’m going out to get some food, takeout or pizza?” Crutchie could be heard knocking down a few things, before poking his head out of the doorway, a eyebrow raised. “Takeout’s my shit, and you know that.”

“Albert?”

“Pizza.” Race shot a glare at him, a silent challenge.

Crutchie took in a deep breath before walking past the two, eying them down like a principal inspecting two fussy kids. (Fuck you, Mr. Wiesel) Crutchie then let out a longer sigh, “McDonald’s it is.” Crutchie decided, shrugging on his coat.

“But-” The two started, only to be silenced when the front door was quickly slammed shut, the walls vibrating with the force.

“Motherfucker.” Race grumbled, before opening another box and walking into the kitchen.

 

**=**

 

Crutchie was _never_ a big fan of the cold, which is why he wonders why he chose a place with long ass winters. “Shit,” he breathed, watching his breath curl around his face in a cloud.

Maybe he should’ve asked Albert about taking his car, at least it had a heater. He quickly pulled out his phone, and opened the oh-so-reliable siri.

“Hey Siri, how far is the nearest-”

Something rammed into Crutchie with so much force, he toppled over onto the sidewalk, his phone skidding out of his hand and out of reach. His crutches fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Crutchie looked up at the jackass. “Ever tried walking around someone you mo-”

Crutchie’s mouth dried and the anger evaporated out of him. He could feel his throat tighten.

 

Crutchie snatched his fallen crutches, and he tried to scramble to his feet, only for the fucking brace to weigh him down. “Wait- hey-”

He kept his eyes to the ground, and covered his face in his hands. He just hoped the stranger didn’t get a good look at his face. He felt their arms wrap around him, and helped him stumble to his feet. “I’m so, so sorry-”

“It’s fine, I just have to go- uhm, right now.”

Crutchie adjusted himself, tucked his crutches under his arms, and dragged himself forward.

The stranger really _was really_ persistent, they latched onto his side, “Shit, I’m really sorry did I ruin your-”

“I’m just in a hurry, it’s fine. R-really.” Crutchie didn’t know why he was acting like this. Maybe because the stranger reminded him of his old crush? Actually- that was probably the case.

Crutchie spared a quick glance up and met the strangers eyes.

 

They suddenly shut up, at a loss for words. Crutchie took the chance and picked up the pace, going as fast as a person with a brace and a pair of crutches could go anyway. The stranger snapped out of their reverie, and caught up in a few brisk steps. They grabbed the sleeve of Crutchie’s sweater, pulling him back.

The two held a silent staring contest for a while, until the stranger spoke. Their voice was uncertain.

 

“Crutchie?”

 

Crutchie could’ve been an asshole and pretend he didn’t know who the stranger was talking about and let them go their separate ways; but in hindsight, it was stupid. This was a once in a lifetime thing. Crutchie couldn’t trash one of the best friendships he ever had- and could still have, just to run away from his Big-Gay-Problem. So, being the emotional nerd he was. Crutchie readjusted his crutches, before pulling Jack into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hey, Jack.”

 

His eyes snapped open. “Shit. Right, my phone,” Crutchie patted his pockets, until he remembered it fell out of his hand when Jack rammed into him. “Okay, wow. You care more about your phone than ya’ best friend?” Crutchie rolled his eyes, he and Jack had conversations like these plenty of times.

 

“You’re not as expensive as that fucking block of iron with a moving picture on it.” Jack whistled, pressing a hand to his heart. “You hurt me, dearly.”

 

Crutchie went back to retrieve his phone, expecting for it to be broken by some passerby’s foot, or stolen, but surprisingly, he found near the same spot, but, there was a younger boy reaching for it. Just in time.

The boy had messy blonde hair with light skin, and a band-aid plastered over the bridge of his nose.

“Hey!” Crutchie yelled, picking up the pace. The boy looked up, his eyes widening. He grabbed his phone, and outstretched his hand, the phone between his fingers. “I wasn’t going to _steal_ it, I’d leave that job to my sister,” he explains quickly. “Please don’t tell my brother.” Crutchie didn’t pay much attention to what he said, just snatching the phone and tucking it into his pocket.

“Right, kid,”

The kid scowled, but before any-more words were exchanged, Crutchie turned around and headed back to Jack, who was standing there with a dumbfounded look and one of his smiles.

The smile he usually had on when he was talking about Santa Fe. “What’s with the dumb grin?” He asked.

 

“I just can’t believe it's you.” Crutchie chuckled, Jack was still in awe over the fact he found him.

“You know, I might just be some predator who’s going along with your story.” Crutchie said as he and Jack started walking.

“Shit, thats actually-” Jack grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, no one worries about no gimp leg in Santa Fe-” Crutchie smiled, a genuine one. Of course, usually anyone would give Jack a look that questioned his sanity, but to Crutchie, it was a wave of nostalgia and a pleasant memory. Back when he and Jack stayed up on the penthouse rooftop.

 

“Just hop on a palomino, you'll ride in style!’ Crutchie playfully nudged Jack away, before the two continued towards Crutchie’s destination and; eventually his dinner for the night, their shoe’s leaving wet tracks on the sidewalk.

“Picture me, ridin' in style. ” Crutchie continued. Jack turned to face him, “God I missed you. I bet Jojo would be delighted to see you.”

“Jojo?”

Jack nodded, “Remember him?” Crutchie stopped, thinking for a few seconds. Jack slowed down, walking ahead at a slower pace. “Oh! ..oh. I feel shitty now.” Crutchie hated being forgotten, but now he was doing the same thing to another former newsie.

He saw Jack step back a few steps to sling an arm around his shoulders, Crutchie stumbled at the added weight, before adjusting. “It’s fine. He doesn’t mind too much. Do you know anyone else?”

 

“Albert and Race.” Jack’s eyes widened, before his shoulders began shaking, and soon enough Crutchie had an armful of a laughing Jack Kelly.

“You poor little thing, how much shit did you put up with?”

Crutchie pretended to count on his fingers, and continued as if it was a struggle to do the math in his head.

He then answered with, “Way to much.”

 

“actually, I’m getting them this.” Crutchie pointed to the towering Mcdonalds sign. “I kind of suggested either Takeout or Pizza but the two didn’t agree, and if I tipped the scales then one of them would be whining for the rest of the night.” He explained. Jack rolled his eyes. “Sounds like Race and Al alright.”

“Sexual tension at its finest.” Crutchie did the perfect symbol with his hand.

 

The two were walking back to- hopefully Crutchie’s apartment, the food was still pretty fresh, although by the pace they were walking at, it wouldn’t be for very long. The two felt like nothing had changed. It felt normal, like Crutchie and Jack were leaving the deli after a long day of selling papers.

 

“I was going on a walk to clear my head, maybe try to recall memories of my past life... but this is even better…”

Jack trailed off, as if he spoken a secret Crutchie wasn’t supposed to know about. He quickly closed his open mouth, swallowing.

 

“...anyway, you’ve changed,”

“So did you, you nitwit.” Crutchie prodded at Jack again. He thought for a moment, before deciding to start asking those icebreaker questions, although there really wasn’t much need for those. The ice had long been shattered.

“Where were you born...in your second life?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I said it.” Jack shook his head, Crutchie glanced at him, trying to figure out if Jack was hinting at another sad backstory; or because he was born in the place the two wanted to go to since forever. Before they knew it, the apartment complex was in sight.

Jack stopped short, looking up.

 

“This is my stop.” Jack muttered, gesturing to the complex. Dismay was evident in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you around?-”

Jack turned around to face Crutchie, who was trying to contain his laughter, hiding his face in his sweater sleeve.

“What? What?!” Jack rushed to his side. Crutchie just shook his head, before opening the door and walking into the lobby, stilling giggling quietly. Jack had the look of pure confusion, Crutchie stopped, waiting for Jack to catch up. When Jack stayed put, fidgeting with his hands like a fool and looking around, Crutchie just rose an eyebrow, he put a hand on his hip through a gap in his crutches. “Well? You coming?”

Jack raised a hand to object, before the guy finally realized it, his face lit up, “No way!” Crutchie rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. “hurry up, the foods getting cold.”

 

The two quickly walked into the elevator, and once the doors closed, they turned to face the other.

“What floor?” Jack asked, tapping his foot to the beat of the song that was quietly playing.

“3,” he answered. Jack’s grin widened, and he quickly pressed the button that was assigned to Crutchies floor.

 

Crutchie waited for Jack to press another, but the elevator jerked up, and they were moving.

 

He leaned onto the railing for support, gritting his teeth. Jack looked over, “Crutch?”

“Not the biggest fan of being held plenty feet off of the ground, in a small box, with only a cord to keep me from falling. Makes me queasy,” Crutchie looked up to meet Jack’s eyes.

“Well hey at least you’re in here with _me_.” Jack grinned, swinging his arm over Crutchie’s shoulders again.

Crutchie groaned, but it was coated in fake dismay. Then, the elevatored lurched to a stop. The doors slid open and the two walked out. “Don’t you live on another floor?”

“Na, fate loves us apparently.”

 

The two walked down the halls, and Jack pointed at his room, a few halls and a turn down from Crutchie and Race’s place. Crutchie shook his head, not believing his luck. “What are the chances the other newsies are here?” He joked.

“I mean, I ran into a Maybe-Katherine.” Crutchies smile fell quickly, “oh.”

They walked in uncomfortable silence. “What happened between you and Ace anyway?” He asked, turning to face Jack.

“We kind of...lost interest in each other. I guess-” Crutchie’s phone suddenly started vibrating in his pockets, the line: _“What kind of fuckery is this??”_ Playing on repeat.

 

He could feel his cheeks heat up as he hurriedly dug around in his pockets, fishing out his phone. God, he hates Race and his humor sometimes.

“Race you little motherfucking brat.” Crutchie spat, before quickly accepting the call.

 

 _“WHERE ARE YOU? ME AND ALBERT HAVE BEEN TEXTING YOU FOR 14 MINUTES!”_ Race yelled into the phone. Crutchie slowly inched his phone away from his ear, little by little.   
  
He scoffed, muttering, "It's Albert and I." Before unlocking his phone and checking his messages, raising his eyebrows when in fact, the two had mercilessly spammed him with an overwhelming amount of messages.

“You’ve been counting?” He quickly replied.

 _“THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU HAVE OUR DINNER!”_  

 

Race paused, composing himself. Crutchie could hear him take a deep breath. _“What happened to keep you distracted anyway? You usually get the job done asap.”_

 

Crutchie looked down at the paper bag, the food was cold. Shit. He let out a uneasy chuckle.

“I just ran into a old friend.” He quickly explained, gesturing for a very confused Jack to follow him. “I’m walking towards the room right as we speak.”

 

The line cut dead, Crutchie rolled his eyes, before pocketing his phone once more. He exhaled, a little grateful that their previous conversation was forgotten, and a little embarrassed, Crutchie was sure he was still blushing.

“What was that about?” Jack asked as they reached the doorway. “Race’s hungry.” Crutchie dismissed the question with a wave of his free hand.

He then knocked on the door a few times, waiting.

Crutchie heard a quiet, _“finally!”_ Then the thundering footsteps that only Race can produce.

The door was flung open.

 

Race stared at Jack, dumbfounded. He then let out a low wolf whistle. “Wow, already picking up the dudes? Damn Crutch, can’t even keep it in your pants and wait a day?” He wriggled his eyebrows.

Crutchie felt Jack stiffen next to him, and he could feel his own cheeks start heating up. He buried his face in his hands.

 

“Oh my _god,_ ” he could hear Race stumbling back, breaking down in laughter. Crutchie spared a glance at Jack, who had pulled his beanie over his face, trying to conceal his (probably) blushing face. Yet, Crutchie could see the tips of his ears were tinged red.

 

“Can it _Anthony_.” Crutchie groaned, finally looking at Race who was hugging his sides, a finger wiping a pretend tear from his eye. His eyes snapped open in surprise, before his gaze hardened. Crutchie already knew where this was going.

 

“Do you still _want_ me and Al to leave you lovebirds alone? _Charlie?_ ” Race asked with a sickly sweet hue to the offer.

Crutchie rolled his eyes, before grabbing Jack’s sleeve and shoving Race aside, who whistled as they passed by.

 

Albert was strewn over the couch, one of his legs dangling over the edge, and one arm slung over the armrest. “Take your food Albert.” Crutchie muttered, tossing the bag towards his face.

 

Sadly, it didn’t land on Alberts face, the fucker caught it somehow.

 

Crutchie let himself slide down and rest, nudging Albert’s dangling leg aside for him to kick his feet up onto the coffee table, careful to not damage his already-sprained ankle. Race walked inside, still chuckling. Jack stood a little ways away from the couch, staring at the finished drawing in pen- the one Albert was working on when Crutchie walked into the living room for the choices on dinner.

 

“That’s the lounge.”

 

Albert shot up, shaking his head, “Excuse me?”

“That was our lounge. Back during the strike.” Albert opened and closed his mouth. Race looked just about as baffled as Albert was. He pointed at Jack, then at the pillows, then at the pen drawing; then at Crutchie.

 

“Yeah.”

Jack glanced around the room.

“So..you both are Race and Albert?”

“Never thought someone would be so uncomfortable around _me,_ ” Albert joked, visibly relaxing. “So which Newsie are you? And what are you doin’ back in Manhattan?”

 

Crutchie cleared his throat. “He’s- uh. Jack actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? making savage crutchie my aesthetic?  
> it's more likely then you think.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you lovely people: what took you so long??
> 
> me, without the usual excuse: uhm, uh well you see, my girlfriend, writer's block, she's been uh, pretty demanding lately-

“Jack? Like Kelly? Santa fe extraordinaire?"

Crutchie nodded, before turning to Jack, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Got anything else to say?”

Jack opened his mouth, before Race tackled him towards the ground in a bone-crushing hug. Albert stood and followed his friends lead.

 

**=**

 

“None of these are good.” Katherine groaned, resting her head onto the table.

She and Denton had spent most of the day scouring the city and writing down anything that _could_ have made a good headline.

But, so far the most they had would’ve been around the same worth as dirt.

 

Still, she wasn’t going to get a nasty bruise on her forehead just to emphasize her frustration by hitting her head against the table of the cafe she and Denton were at. The mentioned boy just ate his sandwich quietly, looking at the small list of potential articles they could pursue. He then leaned over the table, pointing at one. “How about this one?” Katherine took the list, scanning it over and wiping off breadcrumbs from Denton’s sandwich.

“The same band? You wrote an article on them already when they scared off one of their members. You’d be repeating the same old story.” She huffed, before passing it back. Denton just rolled his eyes, muttering, “picky, picky.” Under his breath, only for Katherine to kick him in the ankle.

“I mean, they didn’t even scare him off! It was an equal fight for- ow!” Denton exclaimed, reaching down to protect his probably bruising ankle. A few customers and pedestrians gave them pointed looks.

“Not my point.” Katherine rested her elbows against the table, waving Denton off. “My point is there's almost no good headlines for us. How’re we going to hook them in?”

Denton rolled his eyes, “Well, you could do some cryptid shit.” He brightened up, like he had a good idea. Which, yes, Denton had ideas, but they usually weren’t good ones. “Or! Be a Winfrey and do that reincarnation shit!” Katherine was taking a sip of her tea, before pulling back and pounding at her chest with her fist, coughing. She began shaking her head, before running a hand through her curls- and it ended like it usually did, with her getting her fingers caught in them. “You know the press and the small public eye that reads us won’t believe it.” She muttered, waving a spoon at Denton’s face. He raised both hands up in defense, “Twas just a suggestion.” It was Katherine’s turn to roll her eyes, and she just scoffed at his use of old language. “Only my dad uses that kind of language Denton. Don’t become my dad.”

“Which one?”

“They’re basically the same Denton.”

 

They wrapped up their meal soon after, Denton swung his bag over his shoulder, giving Katherine a mock salute before starting off down the streets of New york and back to his own shared with his friend.

 

The two had decided to wait until the next day, incase something more promising would show up.

As Katherine began her walk back, she began thinking. The boys at the stairwell seemed familiar, Katherine was sure they were part of her old life, yet she couldn’t place a finger on _who_ they were.

Denton definitely knew about Katherine’s predicament, but he never pressed the issue, which, Katherine was grateful for.

Katherine shook her head, she was letting her mind wander. She quickened the pace, weaving through the bustling crowd with ease. If she closed her eyes, she could’ve thought this was back in 1899, with horse drawn carriages and graceful, lean gowns with restricting corsets.

Katherine ran into a man, apologizing briefly before seeing her apartment ahead of her a few blocks.

 

She glanced at a boy limping out of the building, a crutch tucked under his arm.

Katherine didn’t think much of it, moving past him with ease before catching the closing door with her hand, and walking inside.

  


**=**

More time passed, and as more college students settled in and began to prepare for the six, daunting upcoming years of college, the small group of newsies fell into a comfortable state.

 

Jack was rummaging through his things in his drawers he stored his art supplies in, and he took out a few paint brushes- stained with hued fingerprints and smears of acrylics. Jack placed them on the top of the drawer, before kneeling down to the larger box with a slab of tape above the knob. A messy scrawl of words were written on it in bold sharpie: **_Canvases_ **

He could hear a door open from the apartment living room, but didn’t think much of it, he just checked behind his back for any murderer with a butchers knife. _(Said murderer would’ve likely been Race.)_

When there was no sign of any murderer, Jack relaxed, it must’ve been Jojo dropping in to grab something. He turned back to opening the drawer and took out one of the canvases- but nearly dropped it when a pair of hands slammed down on his shoulders.

 

“Surprise, bitch!”

 

Jack screeched, turning around a hitting the person with the canvas in the head.

 

Albert stumbled back, covering his mouth with his hand as he succumbed to a fit of giggles, not minding the throbbing pain in his head from the canvas.

Jack stared at the ripped canvas, rolling his eyes and turning fully to face Albert.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Was hitting me upside da’ head necessary?” Albert fired back without missing a beat.

Jack just nodded, before grabbing a new canvas and walking towards an easel perched in the corner of the room, setting it on the small wooden ledge. Everyone had noticed Albert was letting his accent seep back into his character, little by little.

But really, no one had a problem with it- apart from a double take and a relisten at times.

 

“Anyway, what do you need this time? Food? A life?” Jack asked, walking back to grab his paints and brushes. He shot a curious and cautious look towards Albert, who quickly put both hands in the air.

“Nothin’ much, promise. We’se just going ta’ explore the campus now, maybe grab some lunch on the way there,” Albert explained, letting his hands rest at his sides again.

“We jus’ wanted ta’ know if you were up for it.”

 

Jack just hummed, grabbing a water bottle by his bedside table and pouring some into a tin can, before dipping his brushes in it and running the fibers along the edge. “You’d probably drag me out there anyway, and Crutchie _has_ been telling me to get outside more.”

When a line of silence followed, Jack spun on his heel to face him. “What?”

Albert had made himself comfortable on Jack’s bed, he just snorted.

“Speakin’ of Crutchie, are you going to do somethin’ about those feelings?”

“What feelings?” Jack tensed up, and it seemed like he was putting more force into cleaning the brushes than necessary.

“From one pining idiot to anotha’, I want you to know, from the bottom of my cold dead heart: You’se not foolin’ anyone, look-” Albert shifted to his side and rolled over to face Jack, waving his hand around as he talked, ignoring the cold glare Jack sent.

 

“If you’se waiting for Katherine, I’d understand, but at least say somethin’ about it.”

 

Jack just threw a tube of paint at Albert’s head, grumbling under his breath. He then turned away from his easel again, facing Albert who was tossing the tube of paint like a tennis ball in his hand.

 

“Look, I already said I’ll go, now shoo.” Jack pointed to the door, with an added twirl of his hand for extra flair.

 

Albert pushed himself off the bed with his elbows, saluting Jack before walking out the door backwards.

 

Jack’s nose scrunched up as he stared at the empty doorway, confusion written over his face.

 

When he heard the door click shut, Jack sighed and walked towards the bed to get the tub of paint he had thrown, only to find out- Albert took it with him.

He groaned, glancing at the door distastefully before shrugging on a cabbie and grabbing a coat hanging at the back of a chair, then ran out of his apartment and into the hallway.

**=**

 

Race walked up to the restaurant the group had decided to meet up at for breakfast.

He rose an eyebrow at the name of the place, before shrugging and quickly going inside, as long as the food is good, Race could give less fucks.

 

He scanned the place, before hearing Jack’s silly laugh near the back, where the group was seated in a circular booth, easily one of the louder groups that Race would’ve once despised eating by.

Crutchie was at the outside so he could easily get to his crutch, with Jack on his right. On Jack’s other side was Jojo, who was dumping an unhealthy amount of sugar into his drink.

Albert was on the other side of the boy, drumming his fingers on the table.

 

"Hey guys!" Race sauntered up to the group, who quieted their conversation as he approached. Race fanned his face when he noticed, grinning. "Aw, I'm flattered you'd all listen to me instead of talking about some useless shit."

He then slid next to Albert in the booth, who inched away as he got closer. "anyways, what's up?"

 

Jojo coughed into his fist, trying to mask his voice, "a preposition for you to stop being cocky and save it for Jack."

Crutchie pointed at the ceiling, looking down at the table while doing so.

"Prices," Jack glanced at Race, then at his wallet, which was actually pretty empty- save for a few credit cards and a wad of 20's and 10's.

"My blood pressure because of you’se." Race turned at the wrong time, ready to fire back a comeback when Albert rudely threw a plastic knife that hit him in the throat. Race jerked back, and barely caught himself before he collided with the floor, by slamming his hands on the table and floor. He sputtered hurrying to fix his posture before fixing a tight lipped scowl at Albert. "Dude what the fuck?!"

 

Jojo was laughing to himself hiding it behind a smile, Crutchie had a look of pure exasperation and _Im-tired-of-your-bull-shit-ness_ which Race wasn’t surprised at, this was pretty much the same thing he’s had to put up with since the 5th grade. And Jack was hugging his sides, apparently finding Race’s suffering a good source of amusement.

 

Race leaned over the table, shoving the middle finger in Jack’s face before sitting down.

“I can’t believe this. I came here to have a good time, and I’m feeling so attacked right now.”

 

The group gave a small chorus of, “Yeah, okay.” With a side of eye rolling.

Race glanced at the table, before looking up, slowly feeling the embarrassment wash away from him. “Anyway, you’ve all ordered? Without me?”

Albert took out his phone, typing in his password before swiping about his phone, like an excuse to not look up and face Race.

“I’se took care of it, blueberry pancakes right?”

He quickly looked up when all he received was a stiff silence.

“What? Whadda you guy’se looking at?”

Albert turned off his phone, crossing his arms over his chest.

Crutchie and Jack shared a silent conversation just by looking at each other apparently, because then the boys began smiling. “Your accent is awfully strong th-” “That’s so sweet Albie,”

Race spoke quickly, effectively shutting Jack up, but received a swift punch in the arm from Albert.

“I’d take ya’ cigar again if I could.” Albert grumbled, rolling his eyes.

 

Jojo snorted, before taking out his phone and sending a text to Albert. Albert’s eyes scanned the text, and when Race tried to read it over his shoulder, he immediately turned his phone away from Race’s eyes.

“Anyway, our foods coming.”

 

Albert’s eyes drifted back to his phone for a moment, before looking away and pocketing it.

He leaned over and whispered a few words into Jojo’s ear, but the boy just rolled his eyes. “You don’t have a heart cold enough to do such a thing.” He inched away, his elbows resting on the table.

 

“Yes I can.” Albert leaned back, waiting for a retaliation.  
  
“Can’t.” There it was.

  
“Fucking can.”

 

“Do you want to go?”

 

Race was watching this go down like an intense tennis match, his pale eyes going back and forth between the two.

 

“In the parking lot? Pretending its 3 am?”

 

Crutchie buried his head in his hand, the other inching towards the edge of the booth.

Albert was going to stand up, when Crutchie picked up his crutch in one swift movement, and swung.

 

**=**

“And have a good day sirs.” The employee spat, eyes narrowed, she spoke half heartedly with a hint of ‘ _fuck you we paid for that light_ _that you broke.’_ Just a smidge.

 

“And we didn’t even get to eat our food.” Race sighed sadly, resting his chin on his hand.

 

**=**

“Sarah! Are we ready to go?” The blonde cupped their hands over their mouth, shouting up the stairs, only for them to fall at his sides, a groan coming from him when an agitated, “No! Now be quiet and patient, and let a girl get ready!” Came from somewhere upstairs.

 

“But you don’t even have anyone to impress!”

 

“That’s the point you idiot!”

 

The blonde blinked, processing the information, which was just a little too much for his middle-school brain to handle.

He was sitting in a swivel chair by a kitchen bar that wrapped around the rest of the counters, with an island in the middle. A few wine and champagne glasses with slim stems hung from a rack above the bar- but heavens knows why whoever decorated the place chose to do so. That was just a mess waiting to happen.

 

“We don’t have all day Sarah!” A new voice came from the living room, walking through the arch the led from the mentioned room and into the kitchen to join his brother.

“Davey, she says that the point of her taking so long is that she doesn’t have anyone to impress. Can you explain for me? I don't get it.” The boy pointed at the stairs when he said ‘She.’

Davey walked behind the bar, before leaning down below the countertop and into a small compartment, getting himself a glass. “She means she’s dressing up so she could catch someone’s attention Les.” Davey explained, before turning towards the fridge and pulling out a cartoon of fruit juice.

Les spun around absently on the swivel chair, before it clicked.

“Ohhhhhh!”

 

The two looked nothing alike, Les had blonde hair that was way too messy to actually try and style, with fair skin, while his brother had brown hair and a skin tone somewhat along the lines of coffee.

 

They heard the door open and looked up at the girl walking down the stairs, giving them both the stink eye. “All that just for some eyeliner and a hoodie?” Les asked, his voice rising at the end.

Sarah sighed, before reaching the last step.

“Keep talking and you can stay here.”

Davey nudged Les from across the bar, before chugging down the rest of his drink and putting it in the sink. Les rolled his eyes, before jumping off the chair.

The three then opened the front door, Les mockingly saying: “Ladies first.” Before walking out after his sister.

 

They weren't allowed to have a car after...various incidents. The siblings wandered down the streets of New york, and down the same path they had went for the past months, Les had his hands intertwined with his siblings, keeping them together.

 

Les’s jaw dropped when he saw the campus, and pointed at it as if saying: _‘That’s it? That’s the place you’re going to?’_

 

Sarah, knowing what her little brother was implying, just shrugged, “it’s nothing compared to-”

“Your kidding me right?! This is _huge_!” He spread out his arms to emphasize his point.

 

Sarah and Davey glanced at one another, before a small smile crept onto Davey’s face. “Well, it _is_ a college campus Les, it has multiple buildings and plenty of lecture halls.”

“Rooms.”

Davey tried to ignore Sarah’s remark, “Halls, rooms, whatever.”

“Why don’t you live in the dorms?” Les questioned, Sarah patted her brother on the back, guiding him towards the entry.

“We can just walk here from home.”

 

“Well, it's not as cool as being in a dorm.” Les crossed his arms.

 

Sarah sighed dramatically, she threw her head back, her shoulders sagging, but her brother’s smiles seemed to be contagious to her- and she couldn’t help but grin as well.

 

“You can be the epitome of the college aesthetic when your older.”

“English _please_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im debating on whether or not to change the way they recognize each other, because i feel like one look isn't enough, should i go back and edit the chapters?
> 
> ((also cass dont you dare do that idea for the hp au you prep))

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I know I've been very, very inactive. School has been busy, but I know that's a pretty boring excuse. I've also been talking with friends ((Cass)) and I've decided to do some minor re-writing!  
> Some chapters will change, but honestly, I don't have enough will-power to look through my old stuff, so I may very well just delete this, pretend it never happened and try to pump out the new and improved one.


End file.
